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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26357914">Of Sunflowers and Suns</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valorem/pseuds/Valorem'>Valorem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales in Six [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chinese Actor RPF, UNIQ (Band), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming of Age, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, M/M, Self-Worth Issues, Xiao Zhan doesn't show up till the end</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:40:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26357914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valorem/pseuds/Valorem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seungyoun watches silently as sweat dribbles down Yibo’s nose in lieu of tears, as his heart palpitates in his thin chest, weakly trying to keep up with the ferocity of Yibo’s will. Yibo hadn’t spoken to Seungyoun about it - but Seungyoun knows that Yibo feels like his agency has been stolen, like his freedom has been taken away from him, and for Yibo who thrives on expression through motion, its like shackles wrapped around his body dragging him under the ocean while his mouth was open in a silent scream. </p><p>or </p><p>Five times Seungyoun learns something about Yibo and the one time he doesn't have to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun &amp; Wang Yi Bo, Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales in Six [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>220</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Sunflowers and Suns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to the lovely gorgoeus goregous<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkywrists/pseuds/kinkywrists"> kinkywrists</a> for the beta. You're the coolest.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yibo had always had a delicate air about him, something that screamed a need for careful preservation. He also had a wild air about him, like he’d definitely take any attempt at assistance or protection as nothing but an imposition and abhor it. </p><p>This immediate juxtaposition had confused sixteen-year-old Seungyoun to no end. </p><p>When he’d first met Yibo, he’d been half hiding behind Wenhan, (and it was easy to hide behind Wenhan’s boisterous personality, Wenhan’s charisma had always been in a league of its own  bright, ridiculous, and side splittingly hilarious) so it was easy to miss the soft padding of Yibo’s feet behind him, the gentleness in his eyes as he watched Wenhan with a soul-shattering fondness. It had lit something up inside Seungyoun, a warmth tingling from his toes and spreading to the tips of his fingers - feeling like compassion, and kindness and <em> home </em>.  </p><p>Yibo gives him an easy smile when Seungyoun slots in place next to him, “I hear we are to be roommates,” Seungyoun calls out over the general din of any Yuehua meet and greet party. Yibo smiles for him - a shy curve of pink pouty lips, eyes half-hidden under his bangs.</p><p>“Yes,” Wang Yibo drawls; and Seungyoun tries not to shiver. He's heard Yibo is not much for words, that he prefers to work by his lonesome and in silence, and now he <em>gets</em> why. Yibo’s voice is deep, like the soothing rumble of the ocean before the storm, like a fire is alight inside of him. There is even an economy to his motion, a careless kind of regal elegance to his stance as he leans on his stool, drinking water from a straw- a dancer’s sway to his lovely hips. He also knows now <em>why</em> Yibo has such a reputation amongst trainees; up close, Yibo is a truly <em>spectacular</em> thing to behold. But he's also so small, shorter and narrower than Seungyoun, body swallowed up under all the cloth he wore; he seems to hold way too much power for someone his size and age.</p><p>Wang Yibo hovers awkwardly, when he realises Seungyoun isn't just going to leave like everyone else after making a simple acquaintance. “I used to share with Wenhan before,“ he says in a painful attempt to make conversation.</p><p>Seungyoun has no idea how to react to that, so he nods. “Is he nice?” He asks, because Seungyoun is socially graceful like that. </p><p>Yibo immediately brightens, “Oh yes!” He gushes, “Wenhan is simply <em>the</em> best - he sounds like an angel, and he plays the guitar, he can also swim really well, which is not something everyone knows about him, and he’s even good at video games, like <em>really</em> good" Wang Yibo says proudly, "he’s super funny too - you’ll love him,” he abruptly stops like he'd suddenly realised he'd said too much, flushing slightly. </p><p>Seungyoun feels the beginnings of surprised amusement curling comfortably inside his chest, but he’s not going to tease a child for getting excited about his friends. He does not know where from, but Seungyoun feels the stirrings of protectiveness tighten his gut. </p><p>It’s the first thing he learns about Wang Yibo - he’s loyal, awkward but one-hundred percent lovely. </p><p>—</p><p>Training for Uniq goes in a haze; Seungyoun is constantly exhausted, his body aches, his head aches, even his <em> pinky </em> aches and Seungyoun sometimes wonders why he signed up for this. </p><p>He’s not had much opportunity to spend time with his roommate beyond what they already do in training wherein Yibo had once again established that he’d deserved his reputation by dancing like an absolute <em> beast </em>. Yibo in motion is like watching nature herself through the dilated lenses of iconography. </p><p>His hands and feet cut through the air with almost jarring precision, bones snapping back into place and out at his whim. He’s in devastating control. Here.... here Yibo is the King. </p><p>There is always a stillness when Yibo finishes performing, a steady silence beating through the air like the world itself has stopped to behold his awe. And after, Yibo kind of... folds into himself, crumbles, becomes human, soft and approachable again. Seungyoun tentatively builds in himself the courage to make small talk at times like these.</p><p>Yibo is bad at small talk. But he’s a good listener, which is okay - Seungyoun can talk enough for them both.  </p><p>He cannot usually do much when Yibo gets like this, so he brings an extra water bottle with him and holds Yibo still for a few minutes, making him take small sips until his thirst is assuaged and Seungyoun feels secure enough that Yibo isn’t going to fall over. </p><p>Every time Seungyoun does this, Yibo’s eyes widen in surprise, and then in shy gratitude, and he bashfully turns his face away for a few minutes. But then he bumps his fingers together with Seungyoun’s, and that more than anything else, makes Seungyoun feel warm and welcomed.</p><p>They handcraft these bridges of trust between them slowly and painstakingly, with nicks on their fingers and bruises on their knees. </p><p>It builds like this gradually until one night, Yibo turns to him in his sleep and latches onto one side of Seungyoun’s body, his head on the pillow, holding on tight to one of Seungyoun’s hands and throwing one leg over his body. Seungyoun is surprised at first, wakes up with a sudden start when it happens, but then grins a little and clings right back. </p><p>The next morning, Yibo for once, wakes first. He’s blinking up at Seungyoun in mortification when Seungyoun stretches his arms over his head and cracks his bones like a self satisfied snoozing cat.</p><p>"did you sleep well?" Seungyoun teases drowsily, which just makes Yibo look even more  horrified, eyes cartoonishly big on his face, and well on their way into turning <em> wet.</em> He looks at Seungyoun like he expects to be kicked out of bed. </p><p>Instead, Seungyoun grins at him and ruffles his hair, “We’ll get a bigger blanket later okay?”</p><p>Yibo’s eyes widen in surprise, and then delight. His first bright smile is like the rising sun. </p><p>That’s the second thing Seungyoun learns about Yibo - that he’s clingy, afraid of the dark, and likes to be taken care of in a way that was not overbearing. </p><p>Seungyoun also learns that Yibo does not need night-lights if the one he’s sleeping with is Seungyoun. </p><p>—-</p><p>Yibo becoming blond changes the entire dynamic between their little family. </p><p>Seungyoun’s been here for a few years now - he knows all his bandmates better than the back of his own hand - and they have this comfort to them, this homely settled dynamic that they’ve all come to treasure.</p><p>It cracks with the mould Yuehua forces them all into for their debut. </p><p>Yibo’s blond look turns him into a doll - a porcelain perfection that takes away from him all his ragged edges, that makes him soft and well-loved rather than wild and unpredictable. </p><p>Later, they’d agree it wasn’t just the blond hair that changed things - Seungyoun is forced to endure as Yibo takes a million ‘too pretty to need talent’ jokes with a stoic smiling face, blinks back his anger with the blond hair he lets fall into his face. </p><p>It makes Yibo a handful in the training room. He trains harder than ever, contorting his body into painful positions to deliver to some superhuman standard he kept failing at. </p><p>It makes Seungyoun ache, it makes them all ache - though none of them know what to say to him, or each other about it. </p><p>So Seungyoun watches silently as sweat dribbles down Yibo’s nose in lieu of tears, as his heart palpitates in his thin chest, weakly trying to keep up with the ferocity of Yibo’s will. Yibo hadn’t spoken to Seungyoun about it - but Seungyoun knows that Yibo feels like his agency has been stolen, like his freedom has been taken away from him, and for Yibo who thrives on expression through motion, its like shackles wrapped around his body dragging him under the ocean while his mouth was open in a silent scream. </p><p>It’s hurtful in a visceral way - Yibo is only a year younger than him but he feels way more fragile. He can sense it in the quiet intensity Yibo usually had when he pieced his legos together, a furrow in his brows but excitement and accomplishment thrumming under his veins at the same time (it had been the seventh thing he’d learnt about Yibo - Yibo loved legos) - the satisfaction of doing something he loved just because he loved it; and Yibo <em> loves </em>dance more than anything in the world - but this… this is not the same. </p><p>This is wild, untamed. Yibo’s frustration feels enraged and harmful. Yibo rebuffs any attempt at conversation from them all, smiles like they hadn’t raised him and knew all his tells, smiles like he’s okay with all the objectification and mocking. </p><p>It twists Seungyoun’s heart, which, in hindsight, makes the decision  a not very difficult one at all. It takes his stylist getting angry at him, and Seungyoun raising his voice for the first time in his life to his bosses at Yuehua- fists clenched and pulse pounding in his throat - but Seungyoun <em> makes it happen </em>. </p><p>Yibo is in one of his practice rampages when Seungyoun returns. It’s at 4:50 am in the morning and conveniently no one else is present. All the better for him. </p><p>Seungyoun walks into the training room and quietly clears his throat. Yibo doesn’t notice him, hands thrown up in abandon, music pounding through the wooden floors. Seungyoun walks around the room and shuts off the speakers. </p><p>Yibo halts in motion, hands stretched upward as though in benediction and slowly opens his eyes. They meet Seungyoun’s own through the mirror, and Seungyoun witnesses with amused delight as Yibo’s large eyes widen in shock. </p><p>Seungyoun thumbs his own blond hair with his thumb and index finger - feels the fine silk spilling through his hands. His stylist had done a <em> fantastic </em> job, if he did say so himself. But...<br/>
<br/>
“Do you like it?” Seungyoun asks nervously, stomach shifting. It would, of course, mean nothing if Yibo felt that it was an infringement or overbearing, but Yibo twists around abruptly. </p><p>His chest heaves when he looks at Seungyoun. “You went blond,” he breathes, voice soft in awe. </p><p>Seungyoun shrugs self-consciously, “Well, they insist that we are twins- we might as well <em> look </em> the part.” </p><p>Yibo hastens toward Seungyoun and before he knows it, Yibo has thrown his arms around Seungyoun's neck, hugging him tight to himself, nuzzling his nose into Seungyoun’s throat. “I <em> cannot believe </em>–”</p><p>Seungyoun grasps Yibo tightly, surprised and delighted in no small measure. It feels like years since he’d got himself a good ol’ fashioned Yibo bear hug. His heart settles in his chest - under the overlarge shirt, Yibo’s body feels like bird bones, fragile and likely to fall apart whenever. </p><p>“I missed you,” Seungyoun rasps into Yibo’s sweaty hair. “God, Babyibo, I missed you so much.” </p><p>Yibo only holds him tighter in response, pulling Seungyoun into the security of his arms, while abandoning his own safety into Seungyoun’s. </p><p>There they were! The Leo twins. They were back.</p><p>It’s one of the most important things Seungyoun learns about Yibo - Yibo could work hard until he broke, but he was less likely to crack when he had a companion holding him together. </p><p>— </p><p>Meeting Yin Zheng changes Yibo’s innocent world of dancing forever. Finding out about Valentino Rossi alters Yibo’s entire perception of humanity. </p><p>Bikes make Yibo feel in control, make him feel like he’s regained his lost agency, make him feel cool and flashy and no longer subject to the ‘talentless pretty boy’ taunts. </p><p>Seungyoun enjoys how much Yibo has fun - his rounded cheeks flushed like little apples, eyes shining like stars on his face - he’s never looked happier as long as Seungyoun has known him. </p><p>He would enjoy all of this even more <em> without </em> having Yibo talk his ear off about how much he thirsted over a man twice his age. Its adorable, it’s precious, it’s <em> annoying </em>.</p><p>Seungyoun feels like this is an important right of passage, that a fanboy stage was something they all had to go through, and as much as Yibo has lost his childhood, Seungyoun feels glad Yibo gets to have this. He really truly is... if only Yibo could bring himself to shut up about motorcycles for five minutes, then things would be truly fantastic. </p><p>Yibo’s new obsession with motorcycles rocks Yibo’s sheltered little world - there are posters everywhere, and Seungyoun can die happy without having to encounter Yibo’s besotted expression every time he flipped through his secret Weibo account he thought none of them knew about, and stumbled onto a picture of Rossi. </p><p>Seungyoun can also live his life forever without having to listen to Yibo talk about Rossi until 7am every morning, taking away Seungyoun’s peaceful beauty nap time. </p><p>Sometimes, Seungyoun feels like Yibo needs to sleep for a couple of months to burn off all his excess energy. It might be an overdramatic exaggeration from <em> him </em> but whatever; sue him and all that. </p><p>For some reason, Sungjoo alone is the only one not tormented by this dramatic influx of motorcycles in their life. </p><p>It confuses Seungyoun. It fascinates Seungyoun. Seungyoun is definitely not jealous of his older, more sorted and mature hyung.  He’s pretty sure some kind of dark magic is involved anyway, and at this point, Seungyoun feels emotionally ready to learn. He just wants some sleep, really. </p><p>He sneaks out of the bedroom when he knows Yibo is asleep, giving him a pillow to cling to and accosts Sungjoo in the kitchen. Sungjoo shrieks - trying to Tae-Kwan-Do Seungyoun off of him. Seungyoun hollers even louder, hanging on like a limpet, until Sungjoo gasps, panting and falling back on the kitchen floor. “You brat,” he swears at Seungyoun in Korean, “Annoying little brat, you scared me to death!”</p><p>Seungyoun scrambles on top of Sungjoo, gathering his wrists in one hand and holding it above his head. Sungjoo’s eyes look wide as he lays all vulnerable looking from under Seungyoun.</p><p>“Are you going to kiss me?” Sungjoo asks in a high pitched voice. Seungyoun blinks at him slowly, and violently squashes the urge to prank him.<br/>
<br/>
“No hyung, I don’t want to kiss you.” </p><p>Sungjoo sags in relief. “What’s up then?” He asks. </p><p>Seungyoun shifts uncomfortably atop him. “How do you get Yibo to shut up about bikes?” He blurts out. Sungjoo’s eyes widen, and he tugs at where Seungyoun’s holding his arms arrested above his head. </p><p>“This is why you assaulted me?” Sungjoo hisses outraged, and Seungyoun shrugs helplessly, whining. </p><p>“I want to sleep hyung,“ he pleads, “but he’s so small and excited - would <em> you </em> tell him to shut up? Because if you do - you’re very mean.”</p><p>Sungjoo snorts an amused burst of a laugh, head thrown back and mouth open. Seungyoun really might kiss him if it got him to shut the fuck up and help - but Sungjoo, in a quick thrust of his hips, knocks Seungyoun off of him. Seungyoun scrambles at the floor of the kitchenette, blinking up, desperately.</p><p>Sungjoo hiccups even louder in laughter, hands pressed to his stomach as he giggles, and curls over to his side. Seungyoun pokes at his chest until Sungjoo finally throws his hands up in surrender and stops, still laughing every now and then. </p><p>Sungjoo slowly clambers up to sit, his back resting over the cool marble of the kitchen’s shelves; he stifles his grin when he meets Seungyoun’s eyes, forcing a look of composure as he hums in thought. “I’m not sure,” Sungjoo muses, “ I just... I suppose–” his smile turns warm and fond, “I suppose I just listen to him,” he says gently. “Listen to him and eventually he’ll get out all he wants to say.”</p><p>Seungyoun blinks at him slowly, “So all I need to do is pay attention?” He asks, instead of just coming out and asking <em>are you dumb.</em><br/>
<br/>
Sungjoo nods with a shrug, ignoring Seungyoun's incredulity with practised ease. “You kids are still growing up,” he grins again, the annoying devil, “Things that you get excited over are precious, not moments you want to miss,” He reaches up and ruffles Seungyoun’s hair. “You should also sleep, little Younie!”  he finally adds, getting up to his feet with a groan, a hand pressed to his lower back. “‘M growing old!” He grumbles, tottering off the kitchen and into the bedroom he shared with Wenhan, the tips of his fingers brushing the roof of Seungyoun’s hair.  </p><p>Seungyoun walks back to his bedroom in a daze, and pulls the pillow out between Yibo’s arms and clambers back into his usual place. Yibo continues to sleep like an adorable, drooly, log. </p><p>He looks at Yibo, at his soft face mushed into the pillow, hair a nest atop his head, as he curls into Seungyoun faithfully. </p><p>Its the nine hundred and nineteenth thing he learns about Yibo - he needed people to <em> listen </em>, not just hear. </p><p>It feels pretty magical. </p><p> </p><p>—-</p><p>Yibo loves to hear them sing. It’s really sweet in the way only Yibo ends up accidentally being. Somehow, somewhere along the way, people have convinced Yibo he doesn’t have a great singing voice, so he doesn’t sing as much - but he does listen faithfully when Wenhan pulls out his guitar, Seungyoun and Sungjoo joining in a spontaneous song. </p><p>Yibo gathers his knees to his chest, sitting at Wenhan’s feet when they do - eyes closed and head resting on Wenhan’s knee. Sometimes he brings his legos along and quietly gives them company when they practice. </p><p>They can occasionally cajole Yibo into joining, his own voice a few notes lower than the rest of them, thrumming reassuringly beneath their own. </p><p>The five of them have always been in heartbreaking sync - voices blending and merging together, bodies moving in a smooth beat - to all the dance routines they practiced day in and out. </p><p>Seungyoun enjoys these moments the most - when the five of them just luxuriate in doing this thing they love above all else - and when they get into the zone where the world seems to slow, and there’s only the press of Yibo to his side, Yixuan to his back, Yibo’s feet resting on Sungjoo’s lap and Wenhan’s lovely long fingers periodically grazing their heads. </p><p>Its a puppy heap - all of them piled around each other, pretending the past and future was of no importance. In that one moment it was all that mattered - that they were five. </p><p>And then they were three.</p><p>Yibo loves acting, Yibo is good at acting. Yuehua drafts him off into acting roles often enough that Seungyoun is almost getting used to sleeping on his own - getting used to this large void existing between the four of them as they carefully danced around the things Yibo would say and do. </p><p>This gaping hole between them that feels like someone took a canon and punched a hole in their midst. </p><p>For New Year they drop a song for the first time in a long while - it’s cheery, the mood is atmospheric and peppy, but Yibo <em> isn’t there </em>. </p><p>Seungyoun can’t remember anything hurting quite as much as this - they force a smile on their faces and do the recording, fashioning a snowman for Yibo, which stands there still and doll-like with none of Yibo’s vitality or vibrancy to it. </p><p>The world feels like it’s fading in colour the more time they’re all forced their separate ways. It happens slowly, but Seungyoun gets the uncomfortable notion that they are drifting apart, in spite of vowing that no stupid little ban could ever come between them. </p><p>His home in Seoul feels old and big - his parents are as welcoming as ever but sometimes Seungyoun struggles to breathe. Yuehua sends Wenhan and Sungjoo off for acting roles too - Wenhan getting steadily more miserable by the day, his face turning wan the longer he was forced away from his music. </p><p>For some reason, they’ve all taken to acting like things were okay to each other. Seungyoun hates it, hates how this charade of normalcy just widens the gap between them. </p><p>It lasts for more than a year, they do drop the occasional song but it doesn’t feel the same as it did. </p><p>‘Monster’ is beautiful - and the five of them spin it together with as much mastery as they always do, but there’s something haunting about it, something that seems to scream about how much they’d lost. In a painful way, it feels like a finale, and rather than going out with a bang, they’ve disappeared, quietly into the night, not even their shadows following them. </p><p>But life as it is must move on, and Seungyoun is contesting in Produce X 101 when Yibo gets announced for the Untamed. </p><p>It breaks the internet. </p><p>Yibo had somehow managed to survive as a show host for the past years (however had <em> that </em> worked out, Seungyoun still does not know) but the role is a book inspired character - a canonically gay character. Several of Yibo’s fans abandon him for it, not that Seungyoun thinks Yibo cares. For Yibo it had always been about doing what he loved - the fans had been... incidental. </p><p>Seungyoun sends him a congratulatory message in WeChat and leaves it at that - but the fan response seems to get worse... and <em>worse</em>. Seungyoun is busy, and he hardly has the time to pay attention to <em>himself</em>, but... Yibo is his best friend. </p><p>He calls Yibo one Wednesday from the bathroom, the phone rings forever before Yibo finally takes the call. </p><p>His voice is soft on the other side of the line, “Hyung,” he says quietly, he even <em> sounds </em>exhausted. </p><p>“Hey, baby,” Seungyoun breathes; its been so long since they had spoken when they were not in a hurry, Yibo sounds like a stranger now. “How are you?” He asks instead, like Seungyoun did not have an adequate idea.</p><p>He feels Yibo's dismissive shrug even without being able to see him. He’s silent for a long while, and just when Seungyoun starts feeling vaguely aware that something actually was <em> really </em> wrong, Yibo finally speaks up.“I’m in the hospital,” he mumbles. </p><p>Seungyoun shoots up to his feet. “What?” He hisses, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Again?” </p><p>Yibo makes a noise. “Not so loud,” He pleads. “It’s nothing, it was the heat, and the exhaustion. I drove myself in for a check-up.” </p><p>Seungyoun gapes silently into the bathroom and then swallows. He’s known Yibo for what felt like his whole life - if Yibo had felt badly enough to voluntarily go to the hospital by himself... Seungyoun swallows again.</p><p>“Mm okay,” Yibo promises him drowsily, while Seungyoun messes with his shirt. <em> He wasn’t. None of them were. </em>But lying had become the norm between them.</p><p>Seungyoun remains silent. </p><p>For once, its Yibo breaking the awkwardness. “Hyung?” he asks tentatively. “Can you sing for me?” his voice is small and hesitant.</p><p>Seungyoun swallows the wetness in his throat. He’s tired, he’s been performing the whole day and his whole body feels drained. His voice is crusty.  He should apologise and refuse, pull away and link Yibo to one of his songs instead. </p><p>But then he imagines Yibo, alone in a large hospital room, drowning in a pale blue gown, too young and too alone and <em> scared of the dark </em>. He draws in a wet nasal breath. “I’m writing this new one,” he says quietly, “I haven’t sung it to anyone yet, but-” he doesn't need to finish the sentence. There had never been anything like boundaries between them, countries away or not.</p><p>Then, Seungyoun starts singing.</p><p>
  <em> “How it started  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You and me  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Our eyes kept meeting, electrically  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh god..”.  </em>
</p><p>Seungyoun’s voice chokes up halfway through the song, and Yibo is sniffing quietly on the other side.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s it called?” Yibo asks him when he finally finishes. </p><p>Seungyoun lets the wet notes settle in the air between them.“Love me harder,” he whispers. </p><p>Yibo makes a pained sound like he’d rather be holding on to Seungyoun’s hand than sitting several hundred miles away from him in a hospital. Seungyoun sympathises. </p><p>He misses his best friend like an uncauterized <em>wound</em>. “Its beautiful” Yibo finally breathes, when he manages to pull himself back together, “Hyung- its <em> so </em> beautiful.” Seungyoun huffs out a warm laugh, the same almost forgotten sweetness settling onto his brow, <em> oh! how he’d missed his twin, his soul mate in all but name.  </em></p><p>Its the one thousand and twenty-third thing he learns about Yibo - Yibo was above all, a man of pride, but even more than that - he was a man of love. </p><p>—-</p><p> </p><p>The Untamed is a hit. The Untamed is a massive hit. The Untamed is a stratospheric hit. </p><p>Seungyoun feels overwhelmed by it, and he wonders how Yibo feels, busy in promotions as he is. </p><p>Seungyoun works harder on Woodz and keeps an absent eye on his friends and their upcoming projects. Its easier to keep tabs on Yibo than it is on any of the others - he’s <em> everywhere </em>. </p><p>Its a cozy Saturday night, a rare interlude of freedom, when Seungyoun opens YouTube. He might as well see what the fuss about this whole 'Nanjing concert' is. </p><p>He plugs his earphones in, and clicks on the fancam that seems to have the best resolution. </p><p>The video loads up, and Seungyoun squats comfortably in his bean bag - pulling a bunch of pillows to himself, and a packet of Lays.</p><p>Seungyoun <em> blinks </em> when the show starts. </p><p>No wonder Yibo never shut up about him! Because Yibo’s costar... Yibo's costar is a <em> beauty</em>. Its the first thing he notices. Xiao Zhan is not only tall, and majestic with a bearing of an Emperor - Xiao Zhan is a <em> beauty</em>.</p><p>He’s captivating in a blinding way, his presence filling out the essence of the whole stadium and Seungyoun watches, gaping silently as Yibo comes up the stage to stand next to him. </p><p>Together at the same time, they’re almost <em>too</em> majestic a vision to behold. </p><p>Xiao Zhan is slightly taller than Yibo, his chin coming up to the fine brush of Yibo’s hair, his eyes have the same kind of gentleness he’s only seen before on one other person.</p><p>Seungyoun knows a lot of people with a warm bearing, but none with so complimentary a disposition. </p><p>He watches heart in his throat as Yibo smiles wider than he’s ever known him to - turning toward Xiao Zhan like he can hardly help it - body swaying toward him like Xiao Zhan is his centre of gravity and he can’t <em> not </em> be in his orbit - a sweetness to his smile that makes Yibo even more lovely than he usually was. </p><p>The concert is a riot; they play games, and Yibo lets Xiao Zhan win every time. It takes Seungyoun a while to realise that this... this is no one-sided crush. </p><p>Xiao Zhan’s eyes trace Yibo’s, the few times Yibo can bear to look away himself, - mapping out every smile like he carefully wants to treasure them in the recesses of his heart, tracing the contours of his body with a warm intent of making sure Yibo didn’t hurt himself - there is a familiarity to the way they touch each other, a longing that is beyond something as cheap as fan-service or even something as pure as friendship. </p><p>Yibo turns to face Xiao Zhan, a bashful smile on his face as he slaps himself on the face gently. Xiao Zhan looks fond, so <em> so </em> fond, that even through the screen Seungyoun feels like he’s going to fucking <em> melt </em>. </p><p>It’s like fate and destiny connects them - a charged tension that has faded to something soothing and quiet, not glaring or obvious but just <em> there</em>, impossible to miss. </p><p>Yibo comes out in Chanel to sing Bu Wang (the song Yibo had loved as much as he’d loved dear sweet Wangji) and for a few moments, it’s like the earth stops spinning. </p><p>Yibo’s voice weaves like a magician’s cloak through the audience, grieving, whimsical, and so much in love that it brings tears to Seungyoun’s eyes. He wishes he’d been there to watch this live. He knows Yibo’s stage presence on screen, but it’s something else altogether in real life.</p><p>All too soon, the concert ends. </p><p>Under the over-amplified screens Seungyoun can see Xiao Zhan’s wet eyes. Yibo follows him, face drilling to Xiao Zhan’s own like he wanted nothing more to abandon all caution and take Xiao Zhan into his arms, curl his body around him and protect Xiao Zhan from the world. </p><p>It ties a tight knot of nostalgia in his chest. </p><p>He doesn’t have to ask. He knows, he <em> knows</em>. </p><p>Its the two thousand and twenty-sixth thing he learns about Yibo - that he’s in love. </p><p>Seungyoun unplugs the video and sits quietly on his bean bag, feeling absolutely <em>wrung out</em> for some weird reason. </p><p>Outside, dawn breaks through the clouds to spill early morning light into Seungyoun’s condo, his house painted green and gold. </p><p>It was a beautiful day. </p><p>Seungyoun watches the sun for a few minutes before throwing his head back with a reminiscent laugh. “Well, you better be good to him Xiao Zhan," He tells it, amusedly “‘Cause you just hit the jackpot.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My twitter is <a href="https://twitter.com/_Valorem_?s=09">@V</a>. There, I yell about Yibo, Yizhan and Uniq in no particular order.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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